


Compelling Work

by Starmouse123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood, M/M, Vampire Castiel, Werewolf Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-16 06:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16080470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starmouse123/pseuds/Starmouse123
Summary: In his free time, Castiel helps the local hospital with his considerable skills.Dean is a patient who hates needles.





	1. Chapter 1

Halfway through setting up the blood drive supplies in the room, a nurse drops by to find Castiel.

“Sire Castiel?” she asks, looking around. At first she doesn’t spot him, but then the other workers all turn to look in his direction, and she does as well. He's near the back of the lobby, away from the windows even though this room does not get any direct sunlight during the day.

No patients are within earshot yet, so Castiel lets the faux-pas of calling him Sire in a public space pass as she approaches. “Yes?”

The nurse wiggles the clipboard she’d brought into the room at him. Castiel takes it from her. It’s a list of patient blood draws for his review today – patients who, for some reason or another, are very difficult draws. Enough so to warrant specialized help.

Castiel scans the list for another moment before looking back up. “I’ll get started on these shortly.”

The nurse flashes a smile. “Okay, I’ll let Rick know you’ll go down for a cart. Oh, and they told me to tell you Mr. Riggs was combative this morning. Just so you know.”

“And he still agreed to have me help?”

She shrugged. “Guess it’s easier with your...” she makes a vague motion with her hand.

“Alright. Thank you…?”

“Alice. Hi!” After a split second’s hesitation, she holds out the hand she still had in the air, and Castiel shakes it. “Just started a few weeks ago.”

“New to the Northwest?”

Alice’s smile turns sheepish. “That obvious?”

“No. You look like you’re doing well. As long as you’re polite in public spaces, you won't have a problem with the fae or other creatures.”

“Yeah, definitely a culture shock, that’s for sure.”

Castiel hums in agreement, and watches as the nurse looks around the room. When her eyes fall on the clock hanging above the far doorway, she lets air escape between her teeth. “Oh jeez, uh, nice meeting you. I have to ah-“ she turns to go but then stops, turns back his way, “do you need anything else before I-?”

He waves her off with a half-smile, listens to her sneakers squeak back down the hallway as he turns back to finish setting up the blood drive stations.

 

There’s a cart waiting for him downstairs in the lab, patient labels printed out and ready to go. He peruses the supplies on the cart, noting with satisfaction that the other phlebotomists have left his stash of the good supplies relatively unscathed. The techs from the blood bank station of the lab wave at him as he passes by. He’ll join them later, to work in the windowless heart of the hospital until the sun goes down and he’s able to leave.

As payment for his services, he’ll receive the expired blood products that would’ve otherwise been tossed, and retain them for himself and his coven. It’s a system that has worked well for vampire interspecies relationships across the Northwest.

“Got everything you need?” the processor at the desk asks him, and he nods and wheels the cart out of the lab.

His first stop is Mr. Riggs, an elderly man who lands in the hospital for a day or two every month or so. He doesn’t usually get a central line, but it’s always harder to draw from smaller fragile veins without one. Mr. Riggs spots him immediately, pale and frail in his bed, but eyes clear and responsive. “Ah, thank god you’re working today, Castiel.”

“Good morning. I hear you had problems earlier?”

The elderly man crosses his arms and makes a noncommittal noise.

Castiel turns away to ready the things on his cart, almost rolling his eyes at the response, but he stops himself. He of all people knows pain brings out the worst in people. “I’ll just need to verify some information with you, and then we’ll get started. Do you consent to being compelled-“

“Yes, yes I do, let’s just get this over with.”

 

Castiel’s fangs always start to itch when exposed to the scent of fresh and close blood, but he doesn’t let it deter him, and he gets through the short list faster than he usually does. When he sees the orders for his last patient, Castiel feels his eyebrows rise high up his forehead. He's surprised they didn’t think to mention this patient to him, but maybe the nurse didn’t realize, or forgot to.

Curious, Castiel prepares the cart before he starts over to the specialized wing of the hospital. It's a long walk over through identical beige hallways - purposefully designed to be separate from the main floor and hard to stumble upon. He feels the faint buzz of magic wards as he makes his way to the right area. Nat is at her station, and hops up as he approaches. Castiel can always see the magic boiling behind her eyes and knows she can see him just as well.

“You read the order?” she asks him, gesturing to his cart.

“I did. Is he feral? Is that why they’re sending me?”

“No, nothing like that.” Unexpectedly, she smiles at him. “He’s a sweetheart. Just very afraid of medical things. Figured it would be more reassuring for everyone involved if we had a specialist take the wheel.”

“Yes, that was wise. Is he awake?”

Nat flaps a hand. “Oh, yeah. Poor thing’s too nervous to sleep. Do your thing.”

All the rooms in this wing are private, so Castiel makes his way over to the specified door just down the hall and knocks politely. After a muffled response from inside, he lets himself in. There’s another tingle of magic as Castiel passes through a smaller warding just inside the door.

Sounds and smells are spelled to be contained to individual rooms, so the rabbit-fast heartbeat and the sharp tang of anxiety hits him like a brick wall when he steps into the room. The man in the hospital bed doesn’t look scared at first glance, but Castiel is too much of a predator to not notice the little signs.

“Hello,” Castiel nods at him, not coming closer just yet.

“Hi there,” the man says, moving jerkily to sit up straight in bed. Castiel can see him inhale from here, sharp eyes gauging. “You the vamp Nat said would come to draw some blood?”

“Yes, that’s correct. My name’s Castiel,” he gestures to the side of the bed. “May I?”

After a curt nod, Castiel rolls his cart closer. The room is small enough that it only takes a few steps to bring it to the side of the bed. “Can I get your name and date of birth, please?”

“Dean Winchester. January 24th, 1979. Aquarius.” Castiel watches as Dean glances over at the cart and looks away quickly.

“Alright,” Castiel says. “You consent to be compelled for this?”

“Yup.” Dean meets his gaze head on, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the perfect symmetry and structure of his face, the clear green tone of his eyes. Vampires are known for their appreciation for beautiful things, and Castiel, being as old as he is, is no exception to that. “What?” Dean scoffs, when Castiel takes too long to respond. “I’m not turning down mind altering anything just because I’m a werewolf and you’re a vamp.” Lower, he says, “I need all the help I can get, here. I hate hospital sh- uh, stuff.”

This order had needed a special blood collection tube, to test for silver. Castiel can’t see where the bandages are, but the sallowness of Dean’s skin, and the faintest hint of still healing bruises on a creature like Dean is a telling sign. He also notices Dean’s hands, and Dean notices them too.

“Sorry,” Dean says, and buries his clawed hands in the sheets. “Kinda on edge.”

“I understand.” Castiel catches Dean’s gaze again. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” After another second Dean says, “Wait. Uh, actually, can you just make sure you whammy me with all you got?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You do realize that will last several hours.”

“Just long enough for my brother to get me out of this godforsaken place. Please?” When Dean turns pleading eyes his way with the sharp scent of distress still hanging in the air, Castiel doesn’t have the heart to say no, but he still pretends to think about it for a long moment. 

“Fine,” he says, begrudgingly. It's not something he would normally do, but Castiel has always had a soft spot for other supernatural creatures in need.

He slowly unravels the power he keeps coiled and under control deep in his chest and leans over Dean’s bed, ready to ensnare. Dean looks up at him at the movement, into his eyes, and just like that Castiel has him.

There’s only the slightest intake of breath, a widening of the pupils, and Dean’s so far under his thrall that Castiel could do anything to him and Dean wouldn’t mind at all.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a temptation, but Castiel feels it keenly here. Sighing in regret, Castiel looks at Dean’s trusting face and commits it to memory. Now he can look his fill without breaking any social norms, and he does so without any shame, taking in the youthful freckles and slight scruff. His clawed hands are still half-clenched in the bed sheets. 

“There’s no need to be afraid here, Dean. Calm down.” Castiel hooks a foot around his cart and rolls it over easily, positions it just so. Already, he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing down. “Hold out your arm.” As he puts on gloves, Castiel eyes the inner part of Dean’s arm when it’s held out, already seeing a good vein to draw from.

A phlebotomist could draw an arm like this sleepwalking. Castiel puts Dean’s arm just where he wants it and glances up to see Dean still staring back at him like he hung the moon. “Keep looking at me and don’t move your arm.” Dean bobs his head in acknowledgement.

It takes Castiel no time at all to go through the motions; putting on a tourniquet, sterilizing the area with a wipe and letting it dry, inserting the needle, filling the blood tubes, undoing the tourniquet, and sliding the needle out before putting gauze on the puncture site. Castiel replaces the gauze with a different bandage and disposes of the rest of the things in their correct biohazard bins.

“You can move your arm slowly now – put pressure on this.” While Dean replaces Castiel’s hand with his own over the bandage, Castiel turns back to his cart and labels the tubes and puts them in a biohazard bag to be delivered to the lab. He takes off his gloves. “Keep pressure on that for a few minutes, and don’t take that bandage off for an hour or two.”

Castiel can still smell the sharp tang of blood in the air, and this one has a different flavor than most. Turned werewolves always smell off and distorted, an aftereffect of being one thing before turning into something else, but Dean’s blood smells clear and true.

Will wonders never cease? Castiel had thought he’d met all the born werewolves in the Northwest, considering how rare and valued they were, but he hadn’t met this one.

“Do you have any questions you want to ask me, Dean?” Castiel asks, turning back to face him.

Dean smiles up at him sweetly, eyes unerringly meeting his. “Can I get your number?”

Oh.

Oh, my.

Castiel feels himself grinning wide before he can stop it. It’s been a while since he’d intentionally used his full powers to compel someone. He’d forgotten how revealing it could be.

It really is a shame.

He can’t stop himself from reaching out, putting the tips of his fingers under Dean’s chin, just for a second. “What a temptation you are, Dean Winchester,” he says, warmly.

It will be quite a while until Dean’s no longer under his thrall, so Castiel adds, “Do what your nurse tells you to, and try to get some rest when I leave. Don’t be afraid, Dean.”

Castiel prides himself on looking back only once before he leaves the room.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel pulls at his embroidered high collar until Hannah slaps his hand away.

“Stop that,” she scolds, smoothing the material against his throat before settling back at his side. “You knew the meeting was going to turn into this.”

She’s right, but he still glowers at the rest of the crowded room and stays silent.

Now that the meeting between the high ambassadors is over, the room has been repurposed as a neutral mingling ground for all the species and nonhumans that live and operate in the Northwest. It’s a place for differences to be resolved without shedding blood, and a chance to make new interspecies connections. As a Speaker for the regional vampire covens, Castiel cannot leave until the gathering has officially ended without causing offense, but he’d much rather be at home right now, alone and unbothered. In much more comfortable clothes than his tight black suit.

The food tables have already been set up, with servers watching them like hawks to make sure the Fae do not add their own food to the mix. Thin, reedy music floats over the din of conversation from a corner of the hall. Normally, he would like it, but now any and all sounds are grating on his nerves.

Hannah moves against his side, catching his attention. “Would you like some whole blood to take the edge off? The coven scheduled a donation for us.”

Castiel hesitates for a long moment.

The blood units he receives as payment for working with the blood bank and nearby hospital are only the red blood cells of a regular donation. The other components of whole blood - the plasma, the white blood cells and the platelets, have been removed or made into different products. Although it’s less sustaining and doesn’t taste the same, it’s safer for young vampires to drink from, before they learn the self-control needed to not kill a live donor in the middle of a feeding. Other vampires, Castiel included, prefer the blood units for other reasons, be it personal or otherwise.

At last, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’d rather not.”

Hannah deflates just the tiniest bit, enough for Castiel to add, “You have my permission to get some yourself, Hannah. No need to suffer me all night.”

“Are you sure, Sire?”

Castiel waves a dismissive hand, and she nods and steps off the low dais to weave her way into the crowd, disappearing from sight. 

Now that she’s gone, Castiel tugs furtively at the collar again and sighs, looking over the room with a disinterested eye. Every ambassador has their own raised platform on the outskirts of the main hall as a status symbol and as a formal meeting place open for all to see, so Castiel has a good view of the room from his chair, enough to watch the crowd without standing up.

There are a couple of dark haired selkies talking to a witch nearby, all putting their heads close together in deep discussion, and a group of shapeshifters showing off to some begrudging familiars. Even a few demons have decided to play nice enough to get past the warding around the building and join the crowd. Based on the revealing clothing, the two horned individuals he sees by the food table are a succubus and incubus. The third person they have crowded between the two of them seems to be a man, and after a moment they are all jostled closer to Castiel’s side of the room, and he turns just enough for Castiel to recognize him.

It’s Dean Winchester.

The frission of pleased excitement that zings through him at seeing Dean again is shockingly strong. It’s been more than a week since Castiel had last seen Dean at the hospital, and this time he looks healthy and hale. He's not as dressed up as most of the creatures here, but the dark fitted jeans and sleek, rich brown leather jacket he wears are enough to catch several eyes, including his own.

Castiel had been hoping their paths would cross again, but for it to happen so soon is something of a miracle. He tries to tamp down the warmth in his chest, but it’s almost impossible with the unfolding scene. Castiel watches with growing amusement as Dean tries to ignore the two demons clinging to him in favor of the dessert bar, desperately focused on the slices of pie before him.

It’s a well-known secret that incubi and succubi have a preference for werewolf strength and stamina, but Castiel has almost never seen them being this bold with someone who is clearly not interested. When the two demons say something to Dean as he tries to sample the food, enough for him to choke and frantically scan the room for an escape, Castiel has to smother a laugh.

And then Dean’s eyes catch on his, and everything stops.

It takes only a split second for his face to brighten in recognition. Dean raises a hand that Castiel returns back, and the relieved smile Dean sends his way is enough for his dark mood to be banished.

Oh dear.

Castiel hasn’t felt the warmth of the sun on his skin for a long time, but the way he feels when Dean smiles like that at him is close enough.

Immediately, Dean frees himself from the two demons and makes a beeline to Castiel with his plate of food. The succubus and incubus almost make a move to follow, but one quelling look from Castiel is enough for them to give up with ill-natured pouts. They’ll have to find someone less appealing to feed from.

When Dean sees the low dais Castiel’s chair rests on, he almost hesitates, but then Castiel stands up and steps down to meet him, holding a hand out. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean shakes his hand, looking him over. Castiel tries not to preen when his eyes get stuck on the gold embroidery covering his chest and neck. “Cas- Castiel, right?”

Castiel nods, a small smile on his face, and Dean lets out a breath.

“Man, it’s good to see a familiar face. Never seen so many non-humans together in one place before. Kinda overwhelming.”

Castiel makes a noise of agreement. “Yes, it can be. I gather this is your first time to something like this?” When Dean nods, Castiel cocks a judgmental eyebrow. “Who’s sponsoring you? They should be making introductions.”

At that, Dean slaps his free hand to his forehead and groans. “Ah shit, Jim’s gonna kill me. I was supposed to stay with him. Got distracted.” He eyes his plate of food woefully.

Alpha Myers is the Speaker for the werewolves tonight. Castiel knows him well, so it’s easy enough for him to gesture Inias over from his place by the near wall. “Inias, can you go tell Jim that I have his charge Dean Winchester? There’s no need for him to collect Dean immediately.”

Inias inclines his head. “Yes, Sire, right away.” Dean watches Inias leave them with raised eyebrows, and then turns back to scrutinize Castiel again.

“I- you’re a Sire?” Dean asks, sudden. “I thought you just worked at the hospital.”

“I volunteer there in my free time.”

“…And when you’re not volunteering?”

“I’m a Speaker, like Alpha Myers. Interspecies relations.”

Dean whistles lowly. “Well, I’ll be damned. No wonder I, uh…” He looks shifty for a second, “Did, I- did I say anything bad? After I was out? I don’t really remember much after you started. It’s all really hazy.”

“No, nothing bad,” Castiel replies, and stops himself from saying more.

“That’s – a relief.” Dean looks down and fiddles with the plate he still has in his hands.

Castiel takes a step back, gesturing to the seats on the low dais that are reserved for him and any guests he has with him. The running joke about him and empty chairs is usually rather apt, but he’s glad to break the mold this time. “Would you like to sit down and keep me company? I can’t leave until the day has ended.”

“Why, don’t mind if I do.” Grinning, Dean joins him and sits down in the chair next to him. 

Castiel watches as Dean unselfconsciously tucks into the food he brought over. For a vampire, such lack of manners is rather horrifying, but Castiel supposes there’s something to be said for the enthusiasm behind it.

“I take it you’re feeling better?” Castiel asks, and Dean nods and cuts a glance over to him.

“Uh, yeah. Much better now.”

“May I ask-?”

“-What happened?” Dean looks down and shrugs one shoulder. “Just something that I brought with me from Kansas. Don’t really wanna get into it.”

“Ah.” It’s enough of an answer that Castiel doesn’t really need any more information. There’s a reason the Western coast has a much larger nonhuman population than the Midwest – and it has much to do with tolerance. “Are you going to join Jim’s pack, then?” If Alpha Myers hasn’t already made an offer to a born werewolf, he's making a grave mistake.

Dean has his mouth full, so he nods and makes noise in the affirmative instead. When he’s able to speak again, he adds, “My brother's been living in California for a while, but Jim offered us both a spot in his pack, and I think we’re gonna take it. Move here together.” Castiel lets the spark of hope in his chest flare a little brighter at that. He'll be close, even though Jim's pack doesn't live in the city. Maybe even thinking of staying long term?

Before Castiel can say anything else, a distant voice from the crowd has Dean trying to duck down behind him. “-Dean?”

“Oh, Christ,” Dean mutters, and gives up trying to hide. “Speak of the devil.”

There’s a very tall man with long brown hair making his way over to where they’re sitting. He’s spotted Dean already, but he sizes Castiel up as he approaches. Inias, back at his post by this point, shifts uneasily, but Castiel gestures for him to let it be. It isn’t very polite to step on a Speaker’s dais without invitation, and it's obvious this man doesn't realize or doesn't care as he steps up to join them. Castiel knows he’s spreading gossip by allowing it, but he’s old enough to be allowed such eccentricities. He’s dealt with worse things than being called long in the tooth.

Dean stands up when Castiel does. “Castiel, this is my brother Sam. Sam, Castiel.”

Castiel offers his hand and Sam shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.” The strong facial features and high cheekbones are enough to give the two away as brothers, but Sam is much bigger than Dean and - in Castiel's eyes at least - not as magnetically handsome. Still, he has an easygoing demeanor that Castiel appreciates. 

“Likewise,” Sam tells him, and after eyeing Dean suspiciously, he does a double-take. “Wait, you – you’re Castiel?”

Castiel squints. “Yes?”

The grin that grows on Sam’s face can only be described as shit-eating. The handshake gets more enthusiastic before Sam steps back. “So _you’re_ the one I should thank for compelling Dean so hard last week?”

Dean groans in misery.

“Oh, yes, that would be me.” Castiel says, catching on.

“Thank you, you have no idea – I have so much dirt on him now, he won’t be able to retaliate for _years_. He was still as docile as a lamb when I got to the hospital to pick him up, and it didn’t wear off until we were back at Jim’s place. And he answered _all_ our questions. You should’ve seen him, he was waxing poetic about bl-“ Dean elbows him hard in the stomach.

“OKAY, thank you, Sam. No need to tell him everything. Jesus.”

“I did warn you, Dean,” Castiel reminds him. “I said it would last for several hours.”

Dean sputters in indignation. “I thought you meant two or three hours - not half a day! I didn’t realize you were packing so much heat at the time!” There’s a dead silence as Dean realizes what he just said, and Sam starts laughing so hard he has to clutch his sides. “You – you know what I mean! Sam, stop laughing, you prick!”

“Uh huh,” Sam wheezes.

Dean truly doesn’t look to happy at the ribbing, so Castiel decides to take pity on him. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have used my full power. I apologize if it caused any discomfort. I’m one of the only vampires in the Northwest that’s old enough to induce such a state for so long.”

Dean looks him over for a long moment and seems to accept the apology. He sighs. “No, I asked for it. Don't have to apologize for that."

Eager, Sam leans towards Castiel. "I can't believe it lasted that long! I've heard - well, vampires get stronger as they get older, right?"

Castiel nods, and Sam looks like he wants desperately to ask him how old he really is, but Dean interrupts him before he can. "I want to make a Twilight joke about your age, but that’s one of the many things Alpha Myers told us _not_ to do here.”

“Yes, please don’t,” Castiel advises. The Pacific Northwest does have a large vampire community, and none of them are happy about the Twilight jokes that inevitably follow. It’s such a common pop culture reference that even Castiel knows what it is.

“Sorry to break this up,” Sam says, contrite, “but Alpha Myers told me to bring Dean back, so he can start introducing us around.”

Castiel hides the disappointment that sweeps through him at those words. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

The brothers have a meaningful conversation with their eyes, and then Dean says, “I’ll be right behind you, Sam.”

Sam smiles to himself and leaves them alone on the dais. 

They sit in silence for a beat, and Castiel makes up his mind before he thinks too long about it.

Dean keeps his eyes on the floor for a long moment. “Uh, I guess I never thanked you for-“ he says, haltingly, palming the back of his neck, but Castiel cuts him off before he gets far.

“Dean, please don’t thank me for doing my job.” Castiel looks over to see Hannah standing over by Inias, both not even being subtle about watching them. All of his Children are terrible gossipers, so naturally all of them will know about this in less than a day. That doesn't stop him. Castiel makes a motion like he’s writing on a piece of paper and gestures towards himself. Hannah immediately turns to dig through her purse. “Besides, I didn’t tell you the whole truth before.”

“Huh?” Dean looks up as Hannah comes over, pen and paper in hand.

“Thank you, Hannah,” Castiel says, and she nods and goes back to her spot by Inias. “I - You did ask me something when you were compelled.”

Dean groans again, rubs at his eye with a hand. “What’d I ask?” he says, resigned.

Castiel writes on the paper and offers it to Dean in lieu of an answer. Dean doesn't take it until Castiel gestures for him to do so, and it only takes him a second to read the writing.

“Is this-?”

“Yes. My number.”

Dean’s face goes through a series of delightful expressions, finally setting on deliberately neutral, but it's totally negated by the slow blush climbing up his face. “Great! Cool. Yes, I have to-“ Dean almost trips down the dais as he starts to retreat, paper in hand, and Castiel can only watch in fascination. Dean turns to leave, hesitates, half turns back. “I’ll- I'll see you later,” he says, and Castiel beams and raises a hand in farewell.

“I look forward to seeing you in the future, Dean,” Castiel calls after him.

He prides himself in getting Dean to look back again before he disappears into the crowd.

 

 


End file.
